


Love Perpetually

by evannmkl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Inspired by Love Actually, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:55:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29150838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evannmkl/pseuds/evannmkl
Summary: "But… you never talk to me. You don't… like me," she said. He sighed, resigned. "It's… a self-preservation thing, you see." - Inspired by Mark and Juliet in Love Actually. Timeline isn't linear, it will bounce around from past and present. Hermione and Draco POV. Updated every other week. EWE. Will diverge from canon a bit in terms of Draco's actions/motivations in school
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

I've had this bouncing around in my head for a month now. I swore I would never publish an unfinished story again, but... here we are.

This story will bounce around in the timeline and will be from both Hermione and Draco's POV. It's inspired by Mark and Juliet from Love Actually. Chapters will be a little shorter, around 2-4k and I'll update every other week. 

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**October 25, 2005**

Hermione took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the shop. She'd only been here once before, and that was with Ginny to pick up their wedding album. She'd been as uncomfortable that day as she was now. But there was very little choice.

"Just a moment," she heard Malfoy yell from the dark room downstairs.

She fidgeted with the flyers on the counter, fanning them out and then straightening them again, trying to steady her breath.

After a few minutes, she heard him coming up the stairs from the basement. "Apologies for the wait, I was in the middle of develop—" his cheerful demeanor immediately evaporated upon seeing her, just like always. "Oh. Granger."

"Uh, yes, hi. Sorry to just drop in. Dennis said that Tuesdays are pretty slow and that I wouldn't be interrupting, but I can see that I am, so I'll just, uh, go. I'll figure something else out." She turned back towards the door cursing herself for even considering this option.

"What do you want?" Malfoy blurted as her hand reached the knob.

She turned around. He was resolutely staring just above her head.

"It's really fine. I shouldn't have bothered you."

"Granger, you've already interrupted me. May as well make it worth it," he grumbled.

She glared at him. "Fine. They need a photo for the book jacket. They need it by tomorrow. I… Well, I forgot all about it. And if I don't come up with one then they're going to use some horrid paparazzi shot from Skeeter's gremlin photographer." She snapped her mouth shut.

He stared at her. "You… forgot."

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Yes, Malfoy. I screwed up. Enjoy the moment of my humility and desperation quickly. I'd prefer not to dwell on it. I have only a thousand things going on and it's not like the press stuff is my main focus. So, do you have anything I can use?"

He continued to stare at her. "You want a portrait. For your book."

She rubbed her temples. "You know what, this was a terrible idea. You hate me. Why would you have any photos of me? I'll just have mum take one. The publisher will have to deal with the fact that it won't move. I'll see you around, Malfoy."

She was a step out of the door when she heard him clear his throat. "Uh, I might have something."

She turned over his shoulder. He was looking at her with a completely blank expression. Like always. She could read nothing. He turned on his heel and headed towards the stairs. Slowly and quietly, as though to not spook him, she stepped back into the store.

"You'll have to come with me. I have to take a batch out of the developer or else they'll be ruined."

He was halfway down the stairs before she was able to make her legs move. She followed him to the basement, admiring his landscape work hung on the walls. She'd always loved the way he captured skies – like he was the only other person who appreciated the freedom of the horizon.

The dark room was just like she'd imagined. Annoyingly neat and minimalist and tinged with red. Photos from the wedding he'd done recently hung from above. Rows and rows of perfectly bound black albums with gold lettering lined the wall.

Malfoy was busily working with the photos in the developer. She stood back, not keen to get any closer to the chemicals.

Should she help herself? Should she wait? She was already crawling out of her skin with the knowledge that he didn't want to deal with her. But he seemed like the particularly uptight type to get bent out of shape if one was to so much as look at something they didn't have any claim to.

He finished whatever he was doing with the photos and switched the light on the wall with his wand. The red lighting turned to a very dim warm light. Her breath caught in her throat as the light illuminated his hair and the shadow emphasized the outline of his jaw. Every once in a while, it caught her off guard. Every once in a while, she forgot how beautiful he was.

She shook herself mentally. Get a grip, you idiot.

She made up her mind. She'd start looking. Better to risk his ire than to stand there aimlessly with nothing but her thoughts. She ran her fingers over the spines, moving away from weddings and portrait sessions, into Ministry events. She was looking for one particular. She finally found it and pulled it off the shelf.

"And I don't," he said, so softly she wouldn't have heard him if she wasn't so attuned to every molecule of his presence.

"You don't… what?" she turned around, clutching the album to her chest, and bumping into something stiff, tall, and distinctly male.

But her senses had betrayed her. He wasn't across the room like she thought he had been. He was right behind her. So close that when she turned around, she bumped right into him.

"Hate you!" he hissed. "I don't hate you." His voice softened slightly, and he took a deep breath and stared up towards the ceiling as though praying for strength and patience.

Something in her snapped just a little. Years and years of biting her tongue and schooling her face and her pride had apparently reached its limit.

"Well then why the hell are you so cold to me? It's like my presence causes you physical pain!" At his silence, she continued. "What do you mean, 'you don't hate me?' You don't have to have to spare my feelings, Malfoy." He let out a sharp quiet hiss. She continued as though he'd never interrupted. "It's fine. And don't get your panties in a bunch. I know you don't hate me because I'm a muggleborn. You've made it quite clear that you're past all that. But I'm a goodie two shoes and I beat you at everything I try. I'm stubborn and my bleeding heart leaves no room for anything else. And I'm a terrible cook and hostess. And I don't bother with the latest trends and makeup because it's a waste of my time. I'm everything you've been trained to avoid. Just because you forced your way into the Golden Trio doesn't mean that you actually like me." She took a deep breath and glared her eyes at him. "It's fine. Just be honest for once in your sorry life. Don't be a bloody politician. Say what you mean. Maybe then we can move on and be friends like you and Harry and Ron."

Hermione couldn't believe it. She'd spent half her life pining over a boy that, at best, didn't consider her at all; and at worst, hated everything about her.

And now she was inviting him to confirm the latter.

And she was stuck in a dark photo lab with him.

And he was just staring at her blankly.

And suddenly she was exhausted by the whole charade.

She stepped back out of his personal space, shaking her head. She should have known better than to expect anything but a cryptic stream of consciousness.

She opened the album.

"Give me a second. I know the one that will work for your dust jacket. I just have to find the right album," Malfoy said, in a tone so casual one would have thought the last thirteen minutes – or thirteen years – hadn't happened at all.

"It's fine, Malfoy. This is perfect." She jerked the album towards him.

His eyes flashed. "What's that?"

She rolled her eyes. "I should have known you'd be too anal to let anyone touch your stuff. It's just the album from Kinsley's retirement. It's the one time Ginny didn't make me do my hair up. I'd like to look at least a little like myself on the cover of my book. Relax. I know right where I took it from. I know how to clean up after myself."

He stilled.

She flipped to the first page. Kingsley and Harry beamed up at her, arms around each other, eyes just a little blank with alcohol, laughing heartily and hanging onto each other to steady each other. She momentarily stroked the edge with her thumb, clinging onto the memory for dear life. It was one of the best nights of her life.

"I don't want to be friends with you," he muttered, interrupting her momentary euphoria.

She tried to conjure the burn of anger from moments prior to numb the sting of that statement. She knew he didn't like her. But she assumed he'd at least have it in him to be friendly. But apparently not.

"Well, fine." She snapped the album shut and shoved it at his chest. "I'll just get out of your hair, then." She made to squeeze by him, ducking under the arm he had leaned against the doorframe.

"I _can't_ be friends with you. It's not that I don't _want_ to." He lowered his arm so that it was in her way.

Fucking Malfoy and his stupid fucking cryptic way of speaking.

"For Christ's sake, Malfoy. Speak plainly for once in your goddamn life."

He stepped back abruptly and clenched his fists in front of her as though he had the urge to shake her.

"You know what? Fine. _Fine_. Just remember that you made me do this. You're the one who wouldn't leave well enough alone!" He stepped back from her slightly.

She blinked at him. He held out the photo album to her and she took it, still looking him. She couldn't decide if it was more shocking to her that he'd said this many words to her or that he was actually using emotion towards her. Honestly, both were unheard of.

He ran his hand through his hair roughly and gestured towards the album. "Well, go on then."

She glared at him and huffed, opening the album. She flipped through the pages of the retirement gala. Kingsley gladhanding various ministry officials. The Weasleys posing for pictures. Harry beaming at Ginny who was secretly pregnant. McGonagall debating with Luna and Trelawny. The glittering "Magical Brethren" statue, redone to show all magical creatures on equal footing. Ron, Neville, Dean, and Seamus toasting. George, Lee, and Angelina plotting silently in a corner. Aberforth and Andromeda reminiscing.

She flipped through page after page. Not a single photo of her. She was annoyed and disappointed.

But she had to admit, it made sense. He hated her. Why would he bother taking or developing photos of her?

After a short moment, he broke his own silence. "I _can't_ be friends with you when that's all we can be. I don't think… I don't see how I could bear it." She couldn't place the tone of his voice.

She flipped one of the last pages, a little too roughly in desperation.

She really didn't want to fathom what vapid shots Bozo had on hand.

Her breath caught in her throat. Her face was… everywhere. Hugging Kinsley. Giggling with Ginny and Angelina. Shaking hands with various Order members. Dancing with Harry. Clapping politely. Smiling up at the podium from her table at dinner. Grinning with a ghost of a tear in her eyes. Leaning against the wall watching the dancers, swaying to the music. Turning over her shoulder and waving goodbye, with cheeks flushed and a wrinkled gown.

Malfoy grabbed the album from her hands, flipped a few pages, and handed her a photo. "This should do."

She was standing at the podium, halfway through her speech. Kingsley had insisted she use her time to advocate for Werewolf rights instead of singing his praises. He'd said the look on everyone's scandalized faces would be the best retirement present anyone could get him. So, she did. She remembered feeling emboldened by the champagne and the disapproval of the Wizengamot. She remembered looking at Kinsley's table. He beamed at her and Harry smirked. She'd never felt so powerful.

But the photo was… she couldn't articulate it. It wasn't the most flattering photo ever taken of her. Well, not in the traditional way. Her eyes were narrowed just slightly, so that her left one looked a little more squinted. The heat from the dancing and the sweat from the excitement (and booze) had started to just barely defeat the spells Fleur and Ginny had used on her hair. She was smirking, not smiling. But… she loved it. She looked powerful. And passionate. And… dare she say, beautiful. Just like she'd felt in that exact moment.

"Always liked that one," Malfoy mumbled, taking it back, and carefully sliding it into a protective envelope. "Tell the publisher they can send me the photo reproduction agreement. I won't make any trouble." He thrusted the photo towards her.

She didn't take it. She just stared at him, open mouthed, head cocked to the side. And for once, he didn't avert his eyes.

"But… you never talk to me. You don't… like me."

"It's… a self-preservation thing, you see."

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed! I have two other stories up right now. One is another Dramione, about 2/3 of the way finished. That's what I should be writing right now, but this demanded space in my brain otherwise.**


	2. 2

**Hi everybody - Thank you so much for your support on this story! Just a few notes before we get started... First, I forgot to include a date in the first chapter. The first chapter is set in 2005. This one is about two years earlier. Second, after this chapter, we'll head back in time and things will generally progress in a linear manner.**

**Enjoy :)**

* * *

**June 7, 2003**

"HERMIONE!"

Hermione had barely had a chance to catch her breath after stepping out of the floo before being engulfed in the excited embrace of Ginny soon to be Potter.

"Hey Ginny!"

"Merlin, Gin, let her breathe," Harry chuckled.

"She can breathe after I've hugged her. I haven't seen her in almost a year."

"It's fine, Harry. I missed you guys."

After exchanging numerous hugs and "How are you's", Hermione found herself plopped on the couch in Grimmauld Place, with a beer shoved in her face.

"You gotta taste it! Tell me what you think!" Harry was grinning at her like a schoolboy.

Hermione raised an eyebrow and caught Ginny in the corner giving her a very pointed thumbs up. She took a sip. It was… okay.

"I brewed it! The muggle way and everything." He exclaimed proudly. She studied Harry's expression. The pride was somewhere between the first time he'd won the Quidditch house cup and when James was born.

She chuckled. "It's great, Harry."

Ginny rolled her eyes and mouthed "thank you." Harry sank into the couch next to her.

"Happy graduation, Hermione." Harry pushed a small gift into her hands.

"I explicitly said no presents!"

"You should know by now that I'm not very good at following rules. Go on, open it!"

Hermione gave Harry a look but couldn't resist the giddy expression on his face.

"I'll wake James," Ginny said. Hermione didn't miss the knowing look on her face. Also, she'd yet to meet a mother who would willingly wake up her seven-month-old from a nap. Hermione knew better. Ginny was giving them privacy.

She ripped open the wrapping paper. It was a framed picture of Harry, Ron, and herself from their graduation from Hogwarts. It was a magical one. Even though it was in black and white, you could see the rosy glow of Butterbeer on all three of their faces. She stood between them, on her tiptoes with her arms around their shoulders. It was one of the happiest times she'd ever felt.

"I made the frame too," he said softly.

She investigated it. It was a mosaic of blue and green tile.

"It's great, Harry. I love this picture. Now I have one piece of décor for my new place."

"I stole the tile from Hogwarts," he said with a smirk.

"You did? Why would you do such a thing?" She was horrified.

"Well, they were renovating all the bathrooms last year, and I got the idea. The blue is from Myrtle's bathroom and the green is from the girl's bathroom on the third floor."

She stared at him. "From the…"

"Troll? Yeah." He laughed. "Luna was teaching mosaic art and I got the idea. Thought it'd be fun to remember the most important bathrooms in our friendship."

Hermione couldn't help the tears welling up in her eyes. "Oh, Harry, you're so sweet."

He shrugged. "What can I say? Fatherhood is making me soft."

"Well, I'm glad for it. I love it. Thank you so much. She gave him a big hug as she heard the cooing of the godson she'd yet to meet.

An hour later, they were each three beers deep, reminiscing about old times, with James resting peacefully in Hermione's lap. He yawned and snuggled closer to her. Hermione's heart exploded. "Hmmmm," she sighed. "Maybe I should get myself one of these."

Ginny laughed. "Yeah, stick around for a blowout and you might change your mind."

Hermione seriously doubted there was anything the adorable baby could do to ever gross her out.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be here when he was born."

She'd been in the middle of finals when he'd been born, and her parents had been scheduled to visit for Christmas.

"It's fine, Hermione. We're sorry we couldn't be there for your graduation," Harry said.

"Oh, stop it. Graduations are boring. I didn't even want mum and dad to spend the money to come."

"You know they wouldn't have missed it for the world. Tell us all about it. And the last year," Ginny encouraged.

Hermione told them all about her last year at Berkeley. She'd finished top of her class at the school of business. No one had understood why she'd gone for a business degree when she wanted to "make a difference in the world," but she maintained that charitable organizations needed good business sense. She'd loved San Francisco since her parents had taken her there when she was a girl and she loved being so close to it. She'd worked for an animal shelter close to campus for most of the time she'd been there. The muggle classes and certifications she'd taken while working at the Ministry had allowed her to start as a sophomore, shaving a year off of her tenure (and the overall bill, California was expensive).

"And will you be traveling back at all to visit any handsome American boys?" Ginny smirked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. There had been a few guys she'd dated during her time at college. None of them lasted very long. She knew all along she'd be returning to England after she was done and there wasn't really anyone interesting enough to cause her to question that future.

At least no one on _that_ continent.

"No, Ginny. I was a bit focused on going to school full time and working."

"Well, a romp between the sheets every now and then doesn't take very long."

"GINNY!" Harry and Hermione exclaimed together. Hermione had never really gotten used to Ginny's lack of sexual embarrassment and Harry, thinking of Hermione as a sister, didn't care for that part of her fiery personality when it was regarding Hermione.

Ginny shrugged. "You can't blame me. California guys are hot. I remember from when I visited."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but there's no one back there pining for me."

"Pity," Ginny said, swallowing down the last of her beer.

"Is Ron going to stop by?" Hermione asked, changing the subject.

"Oh, they're meeting us at the thing."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ginny. "What 'thing?'"

Harry opened his mouth, but Ginny jumped up in front of him and began clearing the bottles littering the coffee table. "Oh, we promised we'd stop by a birthday thing. Ron and Catherine were invited too, so we can meet them there and then grab a late bite to eat."

"Whose birthday—" Hermione's question was interrupted by James' loud cry.

Ginny frowned and sighed. "Okay, well why don't you go get ready while I fulfill my motherly duties."

Her question forgotten; Harry took her luggage up to the spare bedroom.

"What's the dress code tonight?" she asked Harry. He looked confused and yelled down to Ginny who shouted back that it was dressy casual – and that she should wear that black top that makes her tits look so good, there would be lots of single guys there, after all.

Harry took this as his cue, and left Hermione to get ready.

. . . . . . . .

Two hours later, they apparated in front of a brick building in some muggle part of London.

Ginny had dragged Hermione into the master bedroom to get ready. They blasted music and sipped drinks. It had been a long time since Hermione had had so much fun.

Ron and Catherine were there waiting for them. Hermione had yet to meet Catherine in person, but they'd chatted via video chat occasionally when she'd called Ron. She turned out to be a lovely girl. She had strawberry blonde hair and kind brown eyes. She'd been three years below them at Hogwarts and Hermione honestly couldn't remember her. They'd apparently met in the patent office at the Ministry when he was helping George out with the shop. Catherine was sharp as a tack and had a shy wit that complimented Ron's exuberance. From the way Ron held her hand and gazed at her, Hermione was sure she'd have another wedding to look forward to in the near future. She was happy for him. He deserved to be happy. Walking behind her two best friends, hand in hand with the women they loved, she willed herself not to cry. She'd worked too hard on her eye makeup.

They navigated their way through the building which it appeared had once been a warehouse. The bass beat of some dance song echoed in the night air.

"A nightclub? Are you serious? You know I hate clubs!" Hermione shouted over the music as they entered into the main room.

Ginny grinned and shrugged, grabbing her hand and pulling her up to the bar.

"Shouldn't we stick with the group?" Hermione asked.

Ginny shook her head. "We'll meet them over there." She eyed Hermione's chest and rolled her eyes. "What's the point of wearing this top if you don't let it work it's wonders?" To Hermione's great displeasure, Ginny actually groped her tits and pulled on the garment until Hermione felt like she was about to flash the whole club.

"GINNY!" Hermione shouted, feeling equal parts amused and violated.

Ginny pouted, adjusting her skimpy dress until she was satisfied with the effect. "I have to push a watermelon out of my body in order to get great tits. You just get to walk around with them all the time. Plus," she winked. "We'll get better service."

Hermione rolled her eyes but followed Ginny as she flirted and pushed her way through the crowd to the bar.

Ginny made her dance to the music at the bar while they waited. She did like the song. bachelorette group made the take tequila shots with them. And the bartender did, indeed, give them excellent service. So Hermione followed Ginny through the crowd, each carrying a bottle of champagne.

The tequila and the drinks from Grimmauld Place had certainly started to cloud her head in a good way. She didn't drink often, and she visited dance clubs even less. But she found herself feeling quite content and excited for whatever the night had in store.

She knocked the shoulder of another girl as they approached where she saw Harry and Ron standing. The girl's sugary drink splashed onto her arm. One of the champagne bottles overflowed at the sudden impact and flowed onto the girl's shoes. She turned and exchanged apologies with the girl."

"Champagne, Ginevra? All this for me?"

The voice sounded familiar, though she couldn't make it out over the loud music.

As she wished the drunken girl a goodnight, she made to turn around, freezing in place at Ginny's response.

"Don't flatter yourself. You know I'd never waste good champagne on you, Draco. We're celebrating Hermione's triumphant return. Our celebration just happens to be at your birthday party."

Draco.

They'd brought her to Draco Malfoy's birthday party.

Draco bloody Malfoy.

It was June 7. The Saturday directly after his birthday.

She should have seen this coming.

"Hermione get your cute ass over here. There's ice for the bottles."

Hermione took a deep breath.

She could do this.

Maybe it wouldn't be the same. Maybe he didn't hold the same power he had for the last 12 years. Maybe the time away had filled the empty hole in her heart that she'd always saved for him. Maybe he hadn't aged well.

Maybe…

Hopefully…

She turned around and her breath caught in her throat.

She was in no such luck.

He looked as gorgeous as ever. Lounging lazily in a booth, wearing tight jeans and a black button up, open at the top where his porcelain skin glowed with the flashing lights of the club. He'd grown his hair out. It flopped to the side, dusting his eyebrow. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing tattoos.

At almost hurt to look at him, he was so beautiful.

But it didn't hurt as much as the sight of the leggy girl in a bright red dress draped around his body, whispering into his ear.

And it certainly didn't hurt as much as the way his face changed when they made eye contact.

The casual and confident smirk on his face faded into fleeting surprise and then narrowed into annoyance.

The full second they stared at each other seemed to last a lifetime.

"How are you, Malfoy? Uh, happy birthday." She stepped a little closer to the group.

His face went from annoyance to boredom.

He nodded at her. "Good. Thanks." He sat up stiffly and turned to the guy next to him, engaging him in conversation, completely ignoring her presence.

She felt like Alice in Wonderland, falling through time and space, speeding out of control.

She was a fool.

She was still desperately head over heels for him.

He still didn't consider her at all.

She almost wished she could go back to when he hated her for her blood status.

At least then she could pretend he spent any time thinking about her at all.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Someone was pulling her backwards. A hand shoved a champagne glass into hers. People were laughing and hugging her.

She plastered a smile onto her face and laughed at the toast Harry and Ron were giving. She'd pretend later that she was too drunk to remember and have Ginny recount it.

Finally, a century later, she'd said hello to everyone she knew and hadn't seen in years.

Her head was spinning with emotion and alcohol.

She extricated herself from Dennis Creevey and Luna and bolted for the door to which she'd seen smokers retreat.

She gasped for breath, choking on the smoke from a nearby cigarette. She leaned against the brick exterior of the club and tried to steady her breath.

"Hermione, are you okay? Oh no… Are you going to be sick?" Ginny had followed her out.

She didn't know if she was angrier at Ginny for bringing her to this blasted place or for following her out.

Ginny was stroking her hair and pressing a cold cloth to her forehead.

Hermione tried to ignore the sounds of the music and people banging in and out of the door to her right. But she couldn't hold it in. She let out a loud sob.

"Oh, for the love of Merlin…"

She jerked her head up. Malfoy was standing there, staring at them, halfway into lighting a cigarette. He tossed it into the bin and disappeared back through the door.

Hermione frantically told Ginny she'd be fine and that she'd see them in the morning, before yanking herself from Ginny's grasp and practically running around the corner and apparating back to Grimmauld Place.

* * *

**Stupid Draco.**

**Also, this chapter is dedicated to my high school self and her unrequited crush. I hope you enjoyed the melodrama.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi, ya'll. Hope everyone is doing well. I had intended to post a chapter I'd written from the Hogwarts era, but this one just wouldn't let me rest. So, enjoy.**

* * *

**December 22, 2001**

Draco cursed as Potter lapped him.

"Ha!" Potter laughed. "You can take the muggleborn out of the muggle world, but you can't take the muggle world out of the muggle born."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You're not a muggleborn, Potter."

Potter laughed. "Well, I can still kick your ass at Mario Kart any day."

Draco tossed his controller onto the coffee table, hating the stupid music that signified Potter's win – again.

Draco was nothing if not determined. The first time he'd played this infernal game, he'd been the laughingstock of the entire Gryffindor crowd gathered there for Weasley's birthday party. Since then, he'd made it his life's mission to master the art of video games.

"Behave, boys, or no one gets any dinner."

Potter sauntered over and placed a sloppy and disgusting kiss on Weasley's mouth. She giggled and whispered something about "having company."

"Oh, don't let me dampen the mood. I can simply gauge my eyes out. I'm sure my _photography_ business would still thrive, despite my blindness," Draco said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh, fuck off, Draco. Come get dinner before it gets cold." Weasley was standing there with her hands on her hips, and a stern expression on her face.

"Your wish is my command, Ginevra," Draco said, sauntering towards the delicious smell wafting from the kitchen.

"Gross, only my mum calls me that. What happened to Weaslette?" She asked, hitting him across the head as he passed.

Draco began helping himself to chicken and potatoes. He yelled over his shoulder, "Well, since you told me it doesn't bother you anymore, it's no fun. Now that I know how much you hate 'Ginevra,' I'll use that until it's lost its charm."

Potter shook his head, also helping himself. "Slytherins."

After a few jabs at each other's Hogwarts houses, and one helping too many of chocolate cake and some muggle beer that was far too bitter, citrusy, and piney for Draco's taste, they sat lounging at the table, talking about the state of the Ministry, Quidditch, and societal gossip.

The old house elf puttered around, cleaning the dishes and complaining that Weasley hadn't let him help her cook. He watched the old coot and let his mind stray back to his childhood, watching the house elves in the Manor's kitchen. He'd asked Millie, the head kitchen elf, to teach him some cooking spells after Third Year. He'd been dreadful at it and she had politely told him he was a lost cause. He hadn't had any better luck with muggle cooking. He'd managed to somewhat successfully bake some cookies. Baking was marginally easier. It was like potions. Exact measurements and instructions. No improvisation necessary.

"So, what do you think, Draco? Do you want to come with us to the Burrow?"

He was pulled out of his imagination. What had Weasley asked?

"It might be a little weird, but I think we broke through most of the awkwardness at Gin's party. If Ron can tolerate you, then I think we'll be safe from any violence." Potter was smiling at him with a toothy grin.

They were still trying to get him to agree to come to the Weasley's house for Christmas. Potter had been simply beside himself since finding out Draco intended to spend the day on his own. Something about the Weasleys saving him from a childhood's worth of lonely holidays and that no one should be sad at didn't want to travel to France to visit his mother and she flat out refused to return to England unless by Wizengamot order.

He'd briefly considered the offer before deciding it was perhaps a bit too soon.

Potter and Weasley were both looking at him with sympathetic eyes that made him feel like bugs were crawling out of his skin. "Poor Draco," he could imagine them thinking. "Poor, poor Draco with no family, all alone, and miserable." No, if it was this bad with two of them, no way could he stomach an entire herd of Weasleys feeling sorry for him.

"I have plenty to be getting on with. I need to finish the paperwork for my license—"

He was interrupted by a strangled cry from Kreacher who bolted off to the entry way faster than Draco thought his ancient body could safely handle.

He heard fumbling and someone setting down what sounded like heavy luggage.

"MISTRESS GRANGER YOU HAVE RETURNED!"

Draco froze.

What the hell was Granger doing here?

He could hear the old elf badgering about something and popping back into the kitchen muttering about puddles.

Potter and Weasley raced out of the kitchen, all smiles.

Draco sat, frozen still.

He tried to remember the layout of the house and wondered if he could make it to the floo in the living room and stay out of sight of the entry way. He stood up and peeked around the corner. No, he didn't think so. Did he risk apparating? He glanced at the empty bottles in front of him. No, that wasn't wise either. Not even Granger was worth losing a limb.

So, Draco stood in the doorway in between the kitchen and the living room, frozen, trying to think through the haze of alcohol.

Surely, she must still hate him.

How could she not?

He hadn't seen her since…

No.

He wasn't ready. Wasn't prepared.

Potter and the Weasleys rarely spoke of her. He'd carefully, poignantly, cautiously led conversations around her. He was a Slytherin. He knew how to fish. And besides, he'd done a good job. If he hadn't, Weaslette would've gotten that knowing smirk in her eye. A Slytherin trapped in red if he'd ever seen one. But despite all his effort, they'd never bit. Anytime her name had come up, they'd change the subject shortly after. He'd always taken this as a sign that she didn't approve of their friendship with him. He couldn't blame her. It didn't make a lot of sense to him either.

What was she doing here, anyway? She was supposed to be off in America attending muggle university.

Some logical and reasonable, very deep, mind you, corner of his brain reminded him that it was almost Christmas. It was normal to come home for the holidays. He pushed that away with immense annoyance. He'd been perfectly happy with no excuse to think about her.

They were all laughing in the entry way. Potter carried her luggage up the stairs the muggle way. She must be staying with them.

Kreacher was bitching about the water on the floor and impropriety.

Granger was apologizing for being early. Something about her parents being sick. She hoped they didn't mind.

Potter retreated down the stairs and ushered Granger and Weasley into the living room.

Draco held his breath. It was too late to run now. He should have made for it when he'd first heard her name.

That annoying, deep part of his brain smirked. He wouldn't have been able to make himself run even if he'd truly wanted to.

Not when he could find out if she… Not when every cell in his body was trying to force his eyes up from the floor to where he'd be able to catch a glimpse of her face after three years.

He couldn't feel his body anymore. He wouldn't have been able to make his legs move if he wanted to.

Her tinkling laugh acted like gravity, pulling his eyes unwillingly up.

Her hair had snow in it. She was wearing a bulky pink scarf and matching hat. Kreacher was hanging up some heinous plasticky yellow raincoat. She straightened her sweatshirt. Navy with a bright yellow bear. It was massive on her.

He idly wondered if she'd bought it or if someone had given it to her – if she'd stolen it from some guy. Probably some American tosser. Maybe one of those stupid "frat" boys he'd heard about. Obnoxious. With new money and stupid fucking pastel outfits. Taking her on dates. Serving her breakfast. Lending her his fucking clothes.

He clenched his jaw.

She practically skidded to a halt.

"Oh!" Her eyes widened to an impossible size. He was pretty sure his heart stopped when his eyes locked with brown ones.

She looked shocked but smiled weakly. "Oh, well, uh, hello… Draco. It's… It's good to see you."

He knew his heart had to have stopped. Had she ever? Had he ever heard…? He couldn't remember her ever calling him by his first name. And certainly not with a smile. With _that_ smile.

He tried to focus his breath, to think of the eight ball, heavy and smooth in his hand. He tried to recall the meditation and occlumency techniques that had kept him sane.

But…

 _That_ smile. That smile that warmed her cheeks. It crept into his chest and started to thaw his soul.

He wondered. Suddenly, all the fantasies he'd ever entertained were flitting through his mind on fast forward. Granger holding his hand. Dusting the snow from her hair. Granger laughing at his jokes. Lying in the sun. Picking out constellations and wishing on falling stars. Granger sitting at _his_ kitchen counter, wearing _his_ sweatshirt, eating the breakfast _he'd_ made for her..

He hadn't responded.

She was wringing her hands.

And was just fucking staring at her.

Her hands. The ones she'd slapped him with.

No. She could never. Would never. There'd been too much.

The stronger part of his mind took over. Pushing forward real images. Not fantasies.

The look of surprise and confusion on her face when he'd called her a mudblood for the first time. Her red rimmed eyes later that day confirming that someone had explained. Granger spitting fire from her eyes as he passed out "Potter Stinks" badges. The sight of her glaring at him with disappointment in Umbridge's office. The way she'd wept over Weasley's lifeless body in the Hospital Wing.

Granger's eyes as she lay on the floor, silently pleading with him in desperation. The resignation and forgiveness when she realized he couldn't help her. Wouldn't help her.

His stomach clenched. No, she could never love him like that.

But she was a good person.

Maybe she'd forgive him one day and they could be friends.

Brunching with Granger and her friends. Helping carry Granger's boxes and bags. Shaking hands with some boring idiot she would date. Granger laughing at his jokes and lightly hitting his arm. Hugging her and smelling her hair. Granger smiling at him brightly and calling him Draco for the rest of eternity.

Could a stopped heart still skip?

No. He couldn't be friends with her.

Wouldn't.

It had either been several hours or a millisecond.

She was still smiling at him.

And he was still just fucking standing there.

She was definitely nervous. Hands still wringing. Eyebrows raised and squeezed together. Foot tapping slightly.

But she was trying. With that bold Gryffindor heart.

But he was not a Gryffindor.

He was a Slytherin. Slytherins knew something about self-preservation.

And he was a coward.

So, he took a second to memorize her. The way the snowflakes still hung in her hair. The way her spirit threatened to burst through her nervousness and conquer all. Her brazen innocence and determined passion. The way her eyes were narrowed, and cheeks warmed by her uninhibited smile.

And then he crushed it.

* * *

**Thank you to those of you who have reached out privately or commented. It makes my day every time. And to those who are more comfortable simply "lurking," I see you and I love you just as much. Till next time...**


End file.
